The Portland daily press., 1887-11-24
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CONCERNING BOOKS.
MR.. swInburno's Tragedy Of LocrIne.
By Il. cAvAzzA.

CONCERNING BOOKS.
Mr. SwInburne's Tragedy of LocrIne.
BY L. CAvAzzA.
The literary event of the day-ana of many
days-is the appearance in the New York
Times of Mr.. Swinburne's new tragedy.
Locrine, little previous to its publication
in London. This unprecedented feat of
journalistic enterprise was accomplished by
aid Of the submarine cable, and is in itself
poem of progress. The tragedy occupied
fourteen columns OF the Times of November
18th. and is printed with accuracy which is
simply marvellous. 1t appears nothing less
than poetic justice that the ocean cable
should have faithfully repeated the words of
the poet who has ever proved himself the
laureate of the sea, singing Of her as sea-
god might.
Mr.. Swinburne's new tragedy is founded
upon the episode of semi-mythical history Of
Britain alluded to in Millions Genus:
There is gentle nymph not far from hence,
That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn
stream,
Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure;
Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine,
That had the sceptre from his father Brute.
The guiltless danlsel, flying the mad pursuit
Commended her fair innocence to the flood.
The drama is modelled somewhat after
the Greek form, lacking, however, the
chorus. 1t may be placed between Erech-
theus and Mary Stuart, as regards manner;
the luxuriant lyric splendor of Mr. SWIM
burnes classic tragedies is in it restrained
and made more direct in expression to suit
Northern theme, while the ancient story
The New York Times judiciously observes:
"Mr. Swinburne has striven to unite the two
excelences which Dryden divided between
the ancients and the moderns, In laying
down that the Greek plays were better
plotted and the English better written"
The noble and severe outlines, the strongly
defined characters. and stately music of
Locrine are most impressive; while there are
fewer distinct passages of the marvellous
feats of rhythmic and verbal technique than
might be cited from Erechtheus or the unap-
proachable AtdlantG in Calydon.
1t is not easy to select from work like
Locrine, passages that shall convey an idea
of its grandeur or beauty. Yet here and
there song or speech may be Transcribed
for the pleasure of the readers of the PRESS.
The opening lines are solemn, where Guen-
dolen, queen of Britain, talks with her son
of his grandfather dead in their palace of
Troy Novant.
aUENDoLEE.
Child, hast thou looked upon thy grandsire dead?
MADAM.
Ay.
GUENDoLEN.
Then thou sawest our Britain's heart and head
Deathstricken Seemed not this my sire to thee
More great than thine or all men living? We
Stand shadows of the fathers we survive.
Earth bears no more nor sees such birth alive
Again the music is superb in the dialogue
of the Welsh king and the Lord Chamber
lain of king Locrine.
Gambler.
Nay, tell me not no smoke of lies can smother
The truth which lightens through thy lies see
Whose trust 1t is that makes liar OF thee,
And how thy falsehOod, man. has truth for mother.
What, is not thine the heart wherein my brother
Seals all his heart up? had he not put In me
Faith, but his secret has thy tongue for key,
And all his counsel opens to none other.
Thy tongue thine eye, thy SMILE unlocks his trust
Who puts no trust in man.
DEBoN.
Sir then were
A traitor, found more perfect fool than knaye,
Should play false OF turn for gold to dust
The diamond Of the fawless faith he gave,
Who sealed his trust upon me.
The dialogue of Estrild and her daughters
is pathetically sweet as note Of birds about
to be snared:
Sing me the song that ripples round and round.
EsTRILD.
Had visit" quoth Spring to the swallow,
"That earth could forget me- kissed
By Summer and lured to follow
Down ways that know not.
My heart should have waxed not high
Had visit"
Had wist, o Spring." said the swallow,
THAT hope was sunlit mist
And the faint light heart of 1t hollow,
The woods had not heard me sing
Thy wings had not known my wing,
Il had faltered ere thine did, Spring,
sABRNA.
That song is hardly even as wise as
Nay, very foolishness it is to die
In March, before its life were well on wing
Before its time and kindly season; why
Should Spring be sad before the swallows fly?
Enough TO dream Of such a wintrv thing
Such foolish words were more unmeet for Spring
Than snow for Summer when his heart is high.
And why should words be foolish when they sing
The song birds are not.
EsTRILD.
Dost thon understand,
Child, what the birds are singing?
sABRNA.
Knows that The water tells it to the rushes
Aloud, and lower and softer to the sand
The fi0wer-fays, lip to lip and hand In hand,
Laugh and repeat 1t all till darkness bushes
All song to silence dewn the river strand,
And where the hawthorns hearken for the |
And all the secret sense is sweet and wise,
That sings through all their singing and replies
When we would know If heaven be gay or gray,
And would not open all too soon our eyes
To look perchance on no such happy skies
As sleep brings close and waking blows away
And even clearer in its innocent, sad note
is Sabrina's complaint that her father will
not let her see the city where he rules
Thou knowest when desire of him to see
What manner of crown that wreath of towers may
That makes its proud head shine like older
Troys.
His brows are bent even while he laughs on me,
And bids me think no more thereon than he,
For flowers are serions things, but towers are |
The rapid speech and reply are here pure
ly classic:
Has not thine heart, as mine has. here its fill?
sABINA.
SO have our hearts while sleeping-till they wake. |
EsTRILD.
Too soon is this for waking. Sleep thou STILL
sABRINA.
Bid then, the dawn sleep and the world lie chill.
EsTRILD.
This nest is warm for one small wood doves /
sABRNA
All warm the world that feels the sundawn
break.
The musical theme which has been divided
between the two voices is now given out
more largely:
SABRINA.
Nay, let the winds make willows weep and
Me snail, nor wind nor water, while hear
what cody words saith each In others ear;
And which is given the gift and which the giyer
know not. but they take and give good cheer.
One of Mr.. Swinburne's magnificent hymns
to the sea occurs in Estrild's speech:
Thou hast seen the great sea never, nor canst
dream
How fairer far than earth's most lordly stream
n rolls its royal waters here and there,
Most glorious born OF all things anywhere;
Most fateful and most godlike, Mt TO make
Men love life better for the sweet sights sake
And less fear death il death for them should be
Shrined in the sacred spendors of the sea
As God In heavens mid mystery, night and day.